Collide to Connect
by Amber Esme Hermione
Summary: From their first chance meeting Whitney and Justin's friendship gives each of them unexpected support when it's needed most. This story goes from the first hospital room to Justin's nearly lethal quest for revenge. This is my Jitney origin story.
1. Chapter 1: Proximity and Pain Killers

**Title**: Collide to Connect **By**: Amber Esme Hermione

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings of Smallville aren't mine. I borrow them and put them together to suit my whims. My rewards are reviews.

**A/N:** Thank you to for adding our dear Justin to the character list. This fic is to establish how the Jitney (Whitney Fordman/Justin Gains) ship begins.

**Chapter 1:** Proximity and Pain Killers

It was a bad day to be on the roads of Lowell County for drivers and pedestrians alike. Smallville Medical Center received two accident victims from opposite ends of the town in quick succession. First was Whitney Fordman; miraculously unscathed considering his truck had exploded. Second was another student from the high school, Justin Gains who'd been severely injured in a hit and run. The trauma staff were scrambling to stabilize Gains when their other patient regained consciousness.

Whitney opened his eyes, and heard the commotion beside him. _Lana? Was she with me?_ The blond managed to shift enough to see a mass of short curls passed a scrubs clad arm. _Shit! Did I hit this guy? The last thing I remember is fighting with Kent about Lana's necklace. _

A doctor turned and spotted that he was awake. "Whitney, I'm Dr. Sinclair, and you're at Smallville Medical Center. Do you know why you're here?"

Whitney rasped, "I was in a car accident. Did I hit that guy over there?"

"No, he came from a different location. What do you remember about your accident?" The lined features of the doctor creased as he peered into the teen's eyes with a pen light.

Whitney flinched from the brightness. "I was leaving the Farmer's Market. I... something must have caught my attention. My window smashed, and I think my truck flipped." He shook his head, "I'm sorry that's all I remember."

Dr. Sinclair nodded, "You're very lucky the Kents came along. The EMTs said their boy pulled you clear of the explosion."

"Clark?" The quarterback sighed. _I guess I owe Kent for this too. _The blond tried to sit up as a word registered in his mind. _Explosion?_ "What about my truck?"

The physician glanced to the other patient in the trauma team's care. "I'm afraid I don't know, son. We'll be keeping you overnight for observation, but you should be fine." He slid the chart into a pocket at the end of the bed.

Whitney groaned and closed his eyes. _Fantastic! My truck is totaled, I owe Clark Kent my life, and I still don't have Lana's necklace. _

"Whitney?" Lana's frightened voice snapped his eyes open. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep. The worry on her face melted away when she saw he was awake. "I'm so glad you're ok. What did the doctors say?" She stepped forward to take his hand.

"That I'm in a lot better shape than my truck." His ability to smile abandoned him. "I know I'm lucky." His eyes drifted to the now drawn curtain separating them from the next bed.

"Yeah," Lana followed his gaze. "Justin Gains is hurt pretty bad. I saw his parents talking to the Sheriff on my way in to see you."

"What happened?" He didn't bother asking how she knew the kid's name. _Lana's always aware of more than me. It's her job to know the fans, and mine to make the plays. _

His girlfriend pushed her brunette tresses behind her. "They're waiting for him to wake up to see if he knows who hit him." Her forehead creased, "someone left him there to die."

_Damn Kent, waste your rescuing talents on me. This Gains kid needed more help than me... He deserved it more._

"Ms. Lang?" A nurse poked her head around the curtain. "Whitney needs his rest."

Lana nodded, "of course." She lent down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm glad you're ok," she whispered.

"Me too." The bright fabric rippled as Lana left, and he caught a glimpse of chestnut curls and bandages.

The next morning Whitney pulled on the clothes his mother had brought him. His body still throbbed from the accident, but it wasn't more painful than a rough football game. The rings scraped across the bar as the quarterback revealed the other bed, and his path to the door.

For a moment Whitney gazed down at the damage done to the other teen. Both hands were encased in gauze, stitches closed a gash across the boy's forehead, but the rest of him was hidden by the hospital blanket. Whitney's eyes moved back to the patient's face and he saw brown eyes staring up in confusion.

"Uh, sorry. Do you want me to get you a nurse or something?" The senior ran a hand through his blond locks.

"Nah, s'ok. They make me sleep. I don't want to do that anymore." The coco orbs closed.

_At least he's on some good pain meds. Maybe, I should let the know he's awake before I leave. _Thinking the boy was out again Whitney made his way around the bed.

"You're leaving?" He looked over his shoulder to see fear before a half-smile pushed away the expression. "You are my only visitor."

"Sorry," Whitney put on his school-spirit-smile. "I think they're kicking me out'a here."

Justin nodded, and winced, "If you have the get out of jail free card you should use it." He looked down to his hands, "I'd wave, but..."

"No sweat," Whitney shrugged. "Seeing you awake is a good enough send off. I mean it was pretty creepy being in a room with an unconscious person."

Justin cracked a smile, "At least your stay wasn't boring." Then his sallow face contorted again. "You think you could call that nurse?"

"Sure," Whitney stepped into the hall. He spotted the nurse's station, and approached the desk. "Excuse me, Justin... Gains, wants some more pain meds."

"I'll be right with him, in the meantime, here's your discharge papers." She slid a clipboard across to him. "You know we were all worried you were seriously injured in that accident. After the homecoming game you're sure to get a scholarship to Metropolis University. I got my nursing degree there..."

Whitney looked up from signing the papers, "Thanks for the concern. Um... Gains' was in a lot of pain when I left."

"Oh where did my mind go." The woman got up and went to prepare the syringe. With a sigh the quarterback left the signed form on the desk. He returned the nurse's wave as she entered his old room.

"Good luck with her, Gains," Whitney muttered as he headed out to the lobby of the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2: Publications and Pen Pals

**A/N: **Hi readers, if there are any. I've had the first part of this chapter for a while, but it didn't feel complete without the second part.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Publications and Pen Pals**

The Smallville High cafeteria was awash with crimson and gold leftovers from Spirit Week festivities. The quarterback sat at his, usual table with his team, but lacking his former-cheerleader girlfriend. Yes, they were still an item, but she'd quit the squad, and was spending more time with Clark Kent and his friends. They were being called the "Torch Four" now: Clark Kent, Pete Ross, Chloe Sullivan, and Lana Lang.

It's not that he blamed Lana for her distance. His team had used a football tradition to assault the guy who walked her home in the dark. She'd lost faith in the people she used to call friends, and maybe even Whitney himself.

"Another Reprint?!" Dustin tossed the copy of the Torch onto the floor.

"What's with you, Crenshaw?" Whitney asked the other player.

"You should ask Lana what's with the 'Flaming Crows Feet' strip. There hasn't been a new one since Homecoming." He ground his foot into the rumpled pages. "That was the best part of that rag."

"For your information the artist and writer had to leave school. There was an article in this week's edition." They looked up to see the blond editor without her usual sardonic smile.

"Well that sucks. He was the only writer with real talent. Good luck replacing him." Dustin sat back in his chair.

"I can't believe you!" Chloe slammed her hand onto their table. "Justin Gains was nearly killed, and that best you have is 'that sucks'?"

"Chloe," Lana draped her arm around the smaller girl. "Don't let him get to you."

"Almost sounds like you're on her side, Lana." Dustin accused.

"Hey, Crenshaw, shut up." Whitney warned.

"There are no sides here, Dustin." Lana sighed and started to guide Chloe away.

The other player turned bak to his team captain, "I know she's your girl, but I'd watch out Fordman. You know what everyone says about Crazy Sullivan."

"No, I don't, and I don't want you to tell me either." Whitney grabbed his backpack and tray, he dumped the half-eaten lunch, and left the cafeteria.

He walked down the mostly empty hall in search of his girlfriend. He spotted the school paper's door ajar, and poked his head inside. Sullivan sat in front of her computer, but Lana was nowhere in sight. Whitney withdrew to shut the door, but was met with surprised green eyes.

"Looking for something Whitney?" the blonde pivoted in her chair.

"Yeah, I was looking for Lana."

"Well, she left to go find you, so I guess we're both out of luck." The editor sighed and went back to her screen.

Whitney stepped inside, and looked down at the back of her head. He saw that she was working on an email. "Hey, I'm sorry what they said about your boyfriend."

"My what?" Chloe turned bak to him. "You mean Justin? He's just a friend. No, I don't usually like guys that way."

"Usually?" Whitney raised his eyebrows.  
Her cheeks and nose tinged pink, "I have a soft spot for tall brunettes with big smiles."

"You mean Clark Kent," Whitney supplied. "What about the rest of the time?"  
Chloe bit her lip, "I still have a thing for brunettes."

Whitney blinked, and watched her expression shift from worry to terror in a matter of seconds.

"You have nothing to worry about, Whitney. Lana is straight, and..."

He held up his hand, "No, I don't think you'd do that. Believe me jealousy has gotten me in a lot of trouble lately. I threaten Greg Arkin and end up with a wrecked truck and kidnaped girlfriend for my trouble. I'm just surprised you're telling me is all."

"I wanted you to find out from me, not one of your closed minded teammates."

Chloe sighed, "I wanted to tell you myself that I'm not trying to steal her from you. I know she's out of my league."

"Well, thanks, I guess." He shook his head, "Just give me a heads up before you go crazy and decide to abduct her, alright?"

She smiled for the first time since he'd walked in, "that's a deal."

A beep alerted her that she had a new message. Both their eyes flicked to the screen automatically, and he saw that it was from Justin Gains.

"So, you're still in contact with him. How's he doing?"

Chloe looked back up at him, "You and Justin shared a hospital room." She shuffled through her desk and retrieved a pen and green apple shaped notepad. she quickly scribbled and tore it off. "Why don't you ask him yourself? I'm sure he'd enjoy hearing from more than just me."

"You mean you're the only person who's checking in on him?" Whitney took the paper and tucked it into his lettermen jacket.

"That's what the nurse who transcribes his emails says." Her green eyes wavered from sudden moisture.

"What's up?" He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Justin lost the ability to move his hands. His parents took him to a specialist in Metropolis, but it's not clear if he'll ever have full function back."

"Poor guy," He involuntarily flexed his fingers imagining how that loss would change a person. He reached into his pocket again, "I'll send him an email. Thanks, Chloe."

"No problem, and thank you, for being so understanding about the whole Lana thing."

"Hey, you were honest with me. That's a lot more than Kent's done." The bell rang for the end of lunch, and the hall outside filled with voices and lockers.

"See you later Chloe."

* * *

Later that night Whitney threw his jacket at his desk chair and missed. The quarterback sighed, and walked the dozen steps to hang it on the chair. A crumpled bit of green ghosted to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, and examined the crimson letters; the_flaming_crow hotmail . com. _Sullivan probably used her editing pen._

His stapler was employed as a paperweight, and he turned from the desk again. Whitney walked over to the unmade bed and grabbed his Metropolis University pajama pants and clean boxers from a drawer. He left the room with thoughts of what he should write running through his head.

_Hi Gains, Sullivan gave me your email._

_Hi, it's Whitney Fordman, the Crows quarterback. We shared a hospital room the night after your accident._

_Hey artist-man we miss your work at The Torch._

He got back to his room fifteen minutes later. He was only sure that he didn't know what to say, but he felt he had to say something. He knew he'd want to hear from more than one person if he were in Gains' position. _I'd go crazy stuck in a hospital that long with nothing to do._

He clicked _Compose_ Mail and typed in the address.

From: sharks . Fan 83 yahoo . com

To: the_flaming_crow hotmail . com

Subject: Hi From Smallville

Hi Justin,

This is Whitney Fordman. We shared a hospital room after your accident last week. Well your editor gave me your email, and told me she was your only connection to the outside world. She's great, but I know I'd want more than Torch exclusives for entertainment.

If there's anything I can do from here to make your stay easier, or anything you want me to keep you informed about, just let me know.

Your former cell-mate,

Whitney F.

Whitney stared at the screen for a couple of minutes before he clicked _Send_ and put the computer into sleep mode for the night.

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**A/N:** I'm not sure about Chloe's confession to Whitney this early. It just kind of happened, and I couldn't figure a way to fit the conversation in later.

If you read this please let me know what you think. The lack of feedback is discouraging, but I fully intend to keep going.


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